Swords and Stars
by Casey Toh
Summary: Boromir and Faramir spend one last time together.


Disclaimer: Boromir, Faramir and all related characters belong to JRR Tolkien. No intentional copyright infringement is intended through their use.

A/N: I hope that I didn't write Boromir or Faramir OOC. *blushes* And I sort of linked this a little to my other piece: "Trust has to be earned." 

**Dedication:** To Adara/BoromirFAN, who wanted to see the brothers together one last time. Happy Birthday!

**Swords and Stars**

   The sounds of battle filled the night as race against race clashed in the vast expanse of wasteland eastward of Osgiliath, and which was halted by a chain of mountains that extended northward and southward of Minas Morgul at the border of Mordor.

   One group of fighters were the Men of Gondor that was the only neighbor of Mordor to survive till now and even to flourish and prosper under the unmistakably lengthening wings of shadow from the east. The men were noble and fair of face, valiant even under the sudden wave of onslaught against them.

   The other group was the Orcs, foul creatures descended from the very first Elves who had been taken by the shadow, twisted and tortured till they became what they were now, and they multiplied quickly in the darkness.

***

   Boromir cast a quick glance at the bodies about him, and he was gratified to know that all of those were the corpses of the Orcs from Mordor. Not one of his men had fallen to any of the foul blades yet, and he intended to keep it that way.

   Yet, he was hard-pressed to do so, for his band of forty men was tiring quickly from the sheer strength and numbers the Orcs held advantage over them.

   "How many?" Boromir called as he parried the slice of a scimitar with his sword, and slit the throat of that Orc with a dagger.

   "Not enough light!" came the answer from a voice he recognized as that of his younger brother Faramir. There was a grunt as he killed another of the creatures.

   "Listen!" Amras cried. "There are more coming!"

   Boromir strained to hear even as he fought, but the noises were too many to truly make anything of them. He worried, and cursed the fate that led his men to come upon the first small band of Orcs. But it seemed as if the small band of Orcs had grown as the fight continued.

   "Minas Mor-gul has," he thrust his sword deep into the gut of an Orc, "been emp-tied," pulled it out, "tonight," and hissed as a blade caught his dagger-arm unawares.

   He almost dropped his dagger but clenched his teeth against the pain and slashed at his attacker.

   A sword flashed beside him and that Orc fell dead. Faramir joined Boromir at his side, murmuring, "If only the clouds would part and let us some light to see by."

   And as if the sky obeyed his command, a wind blew and the clouds broke apart for the moonlight to shine through.

   That gave some hope to Faramir, but though he knew that the Orcs did not like the rays of _Ithil_, that would not halt their attacks.

   Boromir, with the aid the moonlight gave him, counted quickly the Orcs against his men. "Sixty," he said. "Mayhap seventy."

   Faramir gave his brother an unexpected grin. "That is not too many. Rally our men to fight on!"

   Boromir laughed as his voice rose about all other noises, strong and clear, urging his men to kill all the Orcs. Faramir joined his brother, and the will of both men gave their men renewed strength, for if one was brasher and bolder, the other held quiet fury, and both Captain-General and Captain could move their men to great deeds.

   And when _Ithil_ waxed to its zenith, the Orcs were killed. Some had fled, but the men did not give chase, for they were weary. They stood scattered about the strewn copses, bathed in moonlight and in blood, with almost feral smiles on their faces.

   Boromir smiled, and moved his men further from the site of battle, leaving the bodies of the Orcs for the carrion birds that roamed even this close to Mordor.

***

   A few watches were set and carried out, and both sons of Denethor took the first watch after going amongst their men to help those who were wounded more badly, for they wished to give rest to their men first.

   "Here, Boromir, Faramir." Minuion came with some water for them, and both leaders smiled at the younger man.

   "You must remember not to call us by our names before our father." Boromir winked at Minuion, for though he and Faramir had given orders that they wished to be called by their names outside of Minas Tirith, Denethor would not be pleased to know that.

   Minuion only laughed and retreated back to his watch post. 

   All was quiet but for slight shifting of sleeping bodies upon dead leaves, until Boromir spoke: "Your wish for light came at a good time, brother."

   Faramir smiled. "Mayhap if you had wished for it, it would have come more quickly."

   "Nonsense," the older of them retorted. "You love the stars and moon so much they favor you over me."

   "Oh?" Faramir raised a brow. "And why should they not like someone I love?"

   Boromir could not stop a wide smile from forming on his grave face at his brother's open declaration of love, for memories took him back to when they were younger: when Boromir was so ashamed of any of his brother's words that he had to beg the younger of them to be silent.

   But after an incident which both of them were almost killed while he was swimming in a river near Minas Tirith, they had been close ever since.

   "Yes, I love you as well, brother," Boromir said, now without shame, for after the first time they had had a skirmish with Orcs together, he had understood how easily either of them could be slain, and gone was the embarrassment which had so plagued him as a young boy.

   They sat there for a time, grinning foolishly at each other, before Faramir stirred and coughed, trying to hide a laugh. "Your wound, Boromir." 

   "Ah…yes." Boromir nodded sagely. "Yes: my wound."

   Faramir choked his laughter down and forced it to clear his throat. "Um…" He searched out some salve and herbs. "Here." 

   "What? You're not helping me?"

   "Nay, since you seem to have skill enough to do it yourself."

   Boromir aimed a smack at his brother's leg, which Faramir dodged with ease. Then, the younger of them shook his head and grabbed Boromir's arm. 

   "If you wound that more, I will order you to rest."

   Mock glares were exchanged ere Boromir sighed and relented, allowing his wound to be dressed. When that was done, Faramir held out a hand. "We must take our posts too."

   Boromir accepted the held and was hoisted to his feet. "My thanks, Faramir."

   Faramir nodded, slapped his brother on the back, and as he took his post, he raised his face to the stars and once again thanked them for Boromir.

   And for the first time, Boromir did the same.

~finis


End file.
